


A different song

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blood, Freeform, Gore, I'm going with the flow, OOC, Probaly bad smut, Smut, eventul smut, the usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-12-27 20:43:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What if changes were made to the Game of Thrones? The sweet possibilities of what if.





	1. Chapter 1

_ **Ned Stark-Tourney of Harrenhal** _

Her beauty was enrapturing. If she was the last thing he ever saw, then Ned definitely would die with a happy smile.

The feast was in full swing. Noble lords and ladies swayed and danced to the merry tunes coming from the bards' harps and lutes. Wine was commonplace and Ned was deep into his third cup of the sweet drink. Admittedly he preferred Northern ale to the sweet Summerwine but it was all that was available and Ned didn't mind the taste too much.

Ned couldn't help but smile at the sight of Robert with Lyanna. Robert was beet red from drink and Lyanna seemed to be happy. Ned struggled to tell as so much noise was assailing his senses at once.

He was glad Lyanna was giving Robert a chance like she promised she would. The betrothal was all but set in stone and it would do both her and Robert some good to get to know one another.

Ned's attention was quickly refocused on the undeniable beauty of Ashara Dayne. Her raven curls curled and tumbled around her pale heart shaped face. Her purple eyes seemed to glimmer like amethysts and he could not help but openly gape at her.

"Who are you looking at Neddy?" asked a panting, out of breath voice and Ned reluctantly tore his eyes away from the stunning Dayne beauty to see his elder brother Brandon, panting after dancing with Lady Catelyn Tully for at least three songs.

"No-one Bran." he said, trying (and failing) to be nonchalant.

Brandon's eyes widened as he saw where Ned had been staring and grinned slyly at his brother.

"Aiming high brother? I wish you luck." he said and Ned noticed Ashara Dayne was staring back at him. Then she winked.

He felt his cheeks redden hotter than dragon fire and he quickly glanced at the floor. Brandon roared with laughter at his brothers reaction and clapped him hard on the shoulder.

"Why don't you ask her for a dance Neddy?" his brother asked teasingly and Ned sighed.

"There's no point Bran." he mumbled sadly. "No one wants to dance with the spare."

Brandon grimaced and Ned immediately felt guilty. Earlier that evening Lady Lysa Tully had asked Brandon for a dance but Brandon was busy with his betrothed and Ned, taking pity on the girl after her rejection, offered to dance with her instead. 

"No one wants to dance with a spare, least of all one that looks like a gargoyle." she had screamed before storming off.

Lyanna and Robert had finally managed to agree on something and each looked ready to drown Lysa Tully in the Gods Eye, but Ned had held them back. He had not so subtly held his head down for the rest of the evening.

"Well she certainly does." Brandon said and Ned just sighed again.

"It's alright Bran, I won't be Lord of Winterfell or anything, no lady wants to dance with a over glorified guardsman." he said sadly.

** _ Ashara Dayne-Tourney of Harrenhal _ **

How could one so solemn and sad also look so enticing and attractive? She felt a magnetic pull to him and his stormy grey eyes.

He was one of the Stark children, that was for certain. His brown hair and grey eyes, oh gods those eyes, betrayed his true heritage. He was too old to be the youngest boy, who was currently trying not to fall asleep. He was not the heir either for he had been dancing around with his Tully betrothed for nearly half an hour now. That meant that he must be the middle child.

Eddard Stark. That was his name. She wondered if he knew hers?

His hair may seem dull to some but to her it seemed to radiate with a strength none could deny. His face was long and chiselled, as if from ice, and yet it made him more adult and strong, his solemnness a clearly well used mask which she wished to break down into joy. Once in a while he smiled at his younger siblings. That smile radiated warmth and love and comfort and something she could not place. He looked good when he smiled.

And for the sake of all the Gods she shouldn't get started on his eyes. Those eyes that seemed to draw her to him. Those eyes that showed everything. His cool, cold outside and the warmth hidden beneath.

Whoever said grey eyes weren't beautiful were fools. 

She noticed him watching her. The grey eyes drowned her. The world swam and she did the only thing she thought of doing. She winked.

And to her surprise he blushed, averting his gaze and looking like a guilty child caught by his mother stealing sweets.

She wanted to ask him for a dance but at the same time wanted him to come over for a dance. She resolved to wait for him to come to her. Only for said resolve to crumble into dust when she remembered his mesmering grey eyes.

She stood up and walked over to him praying he'd say yes.


	2. A dance between a Spare and a Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dance happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will be changed as it is an au

** _ Ned Stark-Tourney of Harrenhal _ **

Ned smiled sadly as his brother tried making him smile.

"Go spend some time with Cat." he said and for the first time in his life Brandon listened to him and left him alone.

The dancing was in full swing and Ned briefly watching the twirling, spinning dancers. Cersei Lannister was in the arms of Jon Arryn, both looking quite uncomfortable about the situation. Robert and Lyanna were dancing, seemingly happily, and Ned briefly smiled at the sight. A dozen others twirled and laughed merrily and Ned took a moment to glance at the royal family.

The king looked as unkingly as one could possibly look. His hair was long, unkempt and matted. It was knotted and dirty and the same a dull yellow colour. His nails were claw-like and in his purple eyes Ned could see the madness glimmering alongside something that must be paranoia, judging from the constant twitching of his eye.

Prince Rhaegar looked more like a king than the king himself. His hair was long, silver and graceful. His face was clean shaven and his high cheek bones and angular face screamed of royalty. His eyes were a dark indigo with a warm gleam despite his melancholic looks. He was tense, constantly keeping one eye on his father, as if he expected him to descend into a fit of madness.

Princess Elia radiated strength despite her frail body. Her sun kissed skin had a sickly pallor to it, but she still seemed to shine like the sun itself. Her dark hair fell in cascading curls and her coal black eyes exuded a motherly love and warmth. It also showed a little fear whenever she glanced at her goodfather.

Ned sipped from his wine, now on his fifth cup. The taste didn't bother him as much as he did and he began to want more. He was beginning to see why Robert was always deep in his cups. Then he felt the sudden urge to abandon his drink and ask Lady Dayne for a dance. The urge fell when he saw Brandon walk over to her and begin to talk to her.

For a brief, dark moment, Ned wanted to rip off his brothers balls and make his betrothed eat them. Then the moment passed, washed away by guilt and cold realisation. His brother was allowed to ask anyone he wanted to a dance. He was the heir of Winterfell and had the balls to do such a thing. Ned was not the heir of Winterfell. Nor was he any good with women.

He turned back and poured himself and gulped down a sixth drink.

"Would you give me the honour of dancing with you My Lord?" a sweet, almost sing song voice asked from behind him and in that instant Ned knew who she was.

"I thought it was the strong southron knight that asked the fair maid to a dance?" he replied teasingly, already standing up.

"Your not southern My Lord." she said, her voice just as teasing as his was.

"Ned." he replied and she quirked a brow.

"I am Lord of nothing my lady and my name is Ned." he explained and was both shocked at his boldness and surprised at her answering smile. He knew then, in that moment, that he would die for her, even if it would be for her entertainment.

"Then call me Ashara." she said and he nodded and offered his arm.

"Well Ashara I will happily dance with you and honour you with my horrible dancing skills." he said, smiling and feeling his heart flutter as her arm slipped into his and she giggled.

He lead her to the dancing floor, feeling more and more numb and yet more and more alive with each second. She laid her arm onto his shoulders and his own held onto her hips, as they slowly swayed to the increasingly slower and more intimate music.

By this point only those who were married or betrothed were dancing but Ned held onto Ashara like she was the only thing keeping him alive. They talked little and when they did it was light hearted and free.

He found himself staring into her purple-amethyst eyes and in that moment, he felt more alive than he had ever felt. They were wide and shimmering with love and lust. He wondered if his showed the same. Her raven hair seemed to shine and couldn't help but lightly brush a dangling hair behind her ear. He shuddered when their skin connected and he felt her shiver. Was that a good thing? Was she cold?

He was pulled towards her luscious, pink lips by a indescribable pull. A crackling, fizzling energy seemed to encircle them and the world faded into nothing but her. He was stunned when she noticed she was leaning towards him too and a burning fire roared in his heart.

"NED!" a voice shouted, and they both pulled away to see Lyanna striding towards him.

"For the sake of the Old Gods I had to shout three times!" she exclaimed angrily and Ned felt his cheeks redden to the same colour as the wine he had been drinking earlier.

"Sorry Lya." he said apologetically but then she grinned at him and punched his shoulder.

"It's fine I know what it's like to be in love." she said and Ned felt his face turn into a deeper shade of red,

"What do you want Lya?" he asked grumpily and she chuckled humoursly.

"I poured wine over Benjen's head and now we have to go." she said, acting as if she hadn't just caused a scene.

Ned sighed angrily and turned to Ashara.

"It's been lovely dancing with you, do you think we can do this again sometime?" he asked and she nodded and smiled at him.

"Of course it's been a pleasure." and then she leaned in and said. "Meet me at the Gods Eye in three hours."

And then she left, leaving behind a Ned who was soaring with happiness.

"Let's go sort out Ben then." he said, turning to his sister and walking away.


	3. The three hours later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three hours have passed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will be short as it is focused on the night of Ned and Ashara's dance and we all know what that means.  
First time writing smut so go easy on me.

** _ Ned Stark-Night of the dance _ **

Benjen was asleep. Lya was asleep. Brandon was off somewhere either dishonouring his betrothed or some poor maiden. He was far away from any disruptions.

He could see her. Her long raven hair blew freely with the light, warm southern breeze. Her purple eyes glimmered like stars and her pale skin called to him. She smelled of lemons. He briefly wondered if she tasted like them too.

Banishing his traitorous thoughts, he found himself smiling easily and said...

** _ Ashara Dayne-Night of the dance _ **

…"My Lady." he said, his voice warm and laced with a thick northern accent.

His grey eyes were stormy with the battle raging within him. Already his lust was overcoming his honour and Ashara felt a sort of satisfaction. She wanted his walls to crumble. She wanted him to be hers forever.

"I thought we were on a first name basis my lord." she said teasingly and he grinned a wolf like smile.

"Of course, forgive me Ash." he said.

Ash.

Oh gods help her...

** _ Ned _ **

He had no idea where it had come from but he had wanted to test the sound of it on his lips.

He had liked the way it rolled off his tongue. She looked like she did too.

"You are forgiven." she said, her voice filling his ears. It sounded like the music the Prince Rhaegar had sang earlier but better by a thousand and one.

They walked and talked for an hour. He told her of riding with Lyanna, training with Brandon, teaching Benjen how to fight, fighting with Robert and of helping Lord Arryn rule. She told him of Starfall, about her brother Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, and the time the legendary swordsman was beaten by her in a duel because he stole her favourite sweet. She told him about her other brother Ulrick, heir to Starfall, and the time they had raced one another up and down the Palestone tower. She told him about her mother and father and how she hoped for a younger sister.

They laughed and learned. They grew more and more in love as the moon continued its ascent until it reached its peak and prepared for its descent.

She stopped. So did he. The fizzling energy encircled them and he was pulled towards her luscious lips once more.

This time they kissed.

Her tongue was soft and strong, matching his in their duel for dominance. She tasted like a sweet lemon cake and Ned gripped her waist and pulled her closer to him. She moaned in his mouth and he shuddered, blood rushing to his loins.

Their hips grinded together. He grew hard at the friction and they broke their passionate kiss, panting for breath. Her looked into her purple eyes, silently asking for permission. They kissed once more, just as passionate as the last time.

She tugged and pulled at his doublet and tunic. He pulled off her silk dress and tightly gripped her ass, before pulling off his breeches and small clothes. His dick sprang out and hit her stomach. She giggled and he noticed she had taken off her small clothes too.

Her breasts were ample and erect. Her skin was as smooth as Valyrian steel and as soft as silk. She seemed to be illuminated by moonlight and she had a small patch of raven curls above her womanhood.

They kissed once more and then he laid her on the small bed of clothes they had indirectly made. He kissed her again and again. Then he began to descend. He nibbled on her neck, marking her as his and shivering at the sound of her moans. His hand mauled her breasts and he tweaked her erect nipples, relishing in the sounds of her pleasure. He kissed his way down the valley of her breasts before sucking on her teats like he was a new born babe. She grinded herself into the floor, writhing with pleasure. Then he went even lower. He licked her stomach, causing her to shudder whilst his hands kneaded her breasts. Then he licked her pussy. His tongue went inside he and she screamed his name. He continued. She tasted sweet and he was shocked he could elicit such a response from her. She screamed loudly and clamped down on his tongue.

"When we're married we'll do it every day." he said and she smiled whilst panting and gasping for breath. They passionately kissed and she grinded against his length.

"I love you." she murmured softly and he looked back into her stunning purple eyes.

"I love you too." he murmured back.

And then he entered her. He was too quick, because she cried out with pain. He waited for her to recover and almost spilled at how tight and warm she was. Then she nodded and he thrusted into her. She was tightly clamped around him and Ned felt warm and fuzzy. He roared her name as he spilled his seed inside her and collapsed on top of her. He had lasted ten thrusts. He grew soft inside her and only pulled out when she gently slapped him on the arm.

"Get off me you heavy lump." she said and he did so, albeit reluctantly.

They laid next to one another the rest of the night, warm and sweaty. Ned's seed dribbled down her thighs and mixed with the blood from her broken maidenhead, drying until she wiped it away with the only available thing. Her small clothes.

They fell asleep. Her on her back and him on his side, his arm draped around her protectively.

They did not know that his seed would quicken inside her. Nine moons later a babe was born.

His name was Jon Stark.


	4. The Trident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of the Trident with a few things changed.

** _ Ned-the Trident _ **

He knew it. Robert knew it. They all knew it. The taking of Gulltown, the battle of Summerhaul, the battle of Ashford and the Battle of the Bells had all led to this battle on the Trident. Wolf, Stag, Falcon and Fish stood together against the tyranny of the Dragon for one last, decisive battle.

Robert was next to him, his mighty Warhammer slung over his shoulder. He wore his antlered helm, making him seem like a king of war. Even with his helm on Ned could almost see Robert's rage fuelled face, directed at one man.

Rhaegar.

The Dragon Prince was atop a mighty war horse, leading his loyalist host across the steadily running water of the Trident. He was clad in armour as black as midnight, a dragon made of rubies adorned his breastplate and his helmet was winged like the ones dragons once had.

Ned rolled his shoulders. The line shifted fluidly. Pike and spearmen moved to the front ranks, swordsman filling the next and archers at the rear. The knights of the Vale held the left flank and the Tully's the right. Robert's battered Stormlords stood with his Northmen at the centre.

The loyalists flooded across the ford, almost reaching the banks of the Trident where the rebel army awaited.

Ned unsheathed Ice. The blade was Valyrian Steel and lighter than most blades, but is was still had to wield and use properly. He hadn't originally planned of going to war with Ice but Ashara had made some good points as to why he should.

_"Ash I can't use it." he said tiredly and she frowned._

_"Why not?" she asked "Is it not a Valyrian steel sword?"_

_"It is but it's to big for me to handle." he replied and she raised a brow._

_"Then learn how." she said._

_"Ash..." he groaned before being cut off by the new Lady of Winterfell._

_"No Ned!" she growled. "The North needs to see and hear of you using Ice. It is a symbol of House Stark and a bloody good blade."_

Ned had learnt how to fight with Ice, practicing whenever he could with Robert or the Greatjon or Ethan Glover or Martyn Cassel or Mark Ryswell. He had become skilled with how to use the blade, using the blade at the Battle of the Bells and killing a score of men. He had also managed to save Denys Arryn from Jon Connington's blade. The heir to the Vale was with his cousin on the left flank and had promised to share a drink with Ned after the battle.

The loyalists were nearly across the ford.

Ned took a deep breath in and then breathed out.

He stepped forward and raised Ice in the air.

"Winter is coming for House Targaryen!" he roared and his Northmen roared with him.

And then they charged.

With a crash of thunder the two sides met, just as Rhaegar's horse stepped foot on the rebel held back of the Trident. Steel slammed into steel. Men fell, the sky blotted out with arrows fired from both sides. A mist of blood rose in the air and the once crystal blue waters of the Trident turned red with blood.

The royalists were driven back, but managed to find their footing and held the line at the centre of the Trident. Ned had long ago lost sense of time, his body being driven by something else. This was the army led by the monster who kidnapped and raped Lyanna, fighting for the man who burnt his father and strangled his brother. Men fell in mountainous piles beneath his wrath and the never ending bloodthirst of Ice. The hours passed. The ford turned as red as Rhaegar's rubies and the strangled cries of the dying and wounded added the thunderous noise of battle.

Above the din he heard cheers where the left flank was. He momentarily pulled himself back from the fray and into the ranks of his men, jumping up to see what was happening down the line. The soaring falcon of House Arryn was cutting through the Sun and Spear of the Martell's. The royalist right flank was buckling but managed to rally and hold steady.

Ned turned back to the fray, just in time to see Rhaegar's horse fall, it's flank riddled with arrows. Robert saw this too. He watched as his friend crashed through the battered Targaryen line and being a furious duel with Rhaegar himself.

Ned fought his way closer to the duel, his Northerners pushing with him. Ethan Glover and Theo Wull were on his left. Mark Ryswell and William Dustin on his right. Howland and Martyn were further down the line, fighting with the Greatjon as the fought against one of Aerys' Kingsguard. For their sake Ned hoped it wasn't Barristan Selmy.

Finally he managed to push through the steel mass of Targaryen soldiers, but was then immediately cut off from his own men, who were being pushed back as Barristan Selmy rallied the faltering Targaryen's and led a renewed push.

"Rapist Dragonspawn!"

The yell forced Ned to turn and he saw Robert driving Rhaegar back through the red waters of the Trident. Ned rushed over, ready to help should Robert need it. It didn't look like he did as the Dragon Prince was forced onto his knees.

Then Robert fell, roaring and clutching bloody neck. The Dragon Prince slashed downwards, cutting through Robert's armour and leaving a deep slash on Robert's chest. Just as he was about to swing the death blow Ned roared "Rhaegar!"

The Dragon Prince turned and Ned could feel the Targaryen's indigo eyes bore into his.

"Stark." he said, turning from Robert and readying himself.

"Targaryen." Ned growled back.

Then it began. Ice flew in deadly arcs. Left then right, right then left, high then low, low then high. He drove the Dragon Prince back, rage filling his veins and reinvigorating him further.

"Your father killed mine and forced my brother to watch." he growled, Ice taking chips of metal away from Rhaegar's black metal shield.

"Your father killed my brother." he growled, a large chunk of metal being hacked away.

"You kidnaped and raped my sister!" he roared and Ice fell gracefully downwards, cutting through the black metal and splitting the Dragon Prince's shield in half.

He paused, regaining his breath and allowed Rhaegar to cast away his broken shield.

"Know this Rhaegar of the House Targaryen." Ned said, his voice as cold as winter itself.

"Winter." Rhaegar was driven back.

"Has." Rhaegar fell to his knees.

"Come." Ice descended, cutting diagonally through Rhaegar's breastplate and blood spurted out of the Dragon Prince.

"The...prophecy..." the Dragon Prince gurgled before his indigo eyes became glassy and distant and the Dragon Prince slipped beneath the ruby red water of the Trident.


	5. After the Trident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark rides for Kings Landing, but have the Lions beaten him to it?

** _Ned Stark-after the Battle of the Trident_ **

"TO THE DRAGON-SLAYER!" the Greatjon roared.

"To the Dragon-Slayer!" the rebel army cheered and the last remnants of resistance amongst the Targaryen soldiers shattered. All of them had placed their hope in Rhaegar to restore the Targaryen dynasty to glory. But Rhaegar lied beneath the ruby waters of the Trident. The last hope for the House Targaryen was dead.

Ned surveyed the battlefield. Targaryen soldiers were throwing down their arms in surrender. Some were fleeing. Only one was still fighting.

His white cloak wet and stained with blood, Barristan Selmy was a sight to behold. Until he was unceremoniously stabbed in the back of the leg by a spearmen.

"STOP!" a voice bellowed and Ned saw Robert, struggling to rise and bleeding heavily from his wounds.

"Enough blood has been spilt today." Robert continued and the rebels began chaining the remnants of Rhaegar's once mighty host.

Ned rushed to his brother in all but blood and wrapped Robert's arm over his shoulder and began to drag him back to their encampment.

"Send my maester to tend to Ser Barristan." Robert commanded, his voice weak.

Ned turned and nodded at Ethan Glover, who nodded once and rushed off to obey the command. Ned dragged Robert, now aided by Jon Arryn, back to Robert's tent at the centre of the camp.

A maester soon arrived and tended to Robert's wounds. Ned left and organized the army. He sent out hunters and foragers, scouts down the Kingsroad and managed to reign in the rebel army back into some semblance of order. The prisoners were separated and held at different parts of the camp, so there could be no great escape. He sent men to count the men and he also helped drag bodies out of the Trident and organize them into piles of where they came from, hoping he could return the dead to the lands whence they came.

"Lord Stark!" a voice called when the sun was setting, and the horizon filled with an orange glow.

"Lord Baratheon calls for you." the herald in Baratheon colours said and Ned nodded.

"Keep working lads!" he said and then he left, intending to return once he had met with Robert.

Quickly he found himself at Robert's large tent and was greeted with the sight of Lords Tully and Arryn. Arryn looked at him warmly, as did Robert, but Tully scowled at him. Ned wasn't surprised.

He had arrived at Riverrun moons ago and ,as expected, had been told he would have to marry Catelyn Tully in exchange for the support of the Riverlands. Ned had said no and told the lord he had married Ashara before the Old Gods not long ago. Tully had been wroth and demanded that he set his 'Dornish whore' aside and re-marry Catelyn. Ned had again refused and had instead managed to take Hoster's only son and heir, Edmure, hostage. Tully had been much more compliant after that.

"Lord Arryn, Lord Tully." Ned said, nodding his head in greeting to each lord.

"Lord Stark." Jon replied warmly.

"Lord Stark." Lord Tully said coldly.

"Ned!" Robert roared and laughed before gulping down some wine. "The Dragon-Slayer himself!"

Ned cringed at the name. "You know I don't like that." he groaned, sounding like the nine and ten year old man he was.

"Oh." Robert chuckled. "Would you prefer Demon of the Trident? or perhaps the Bloody Wolf?"

"I prefer to be called Ned." he replied and Robert laughed, practically shaking the sky itself with it's thunderous noise.

"Why did you summon me Robert?" he asked and the mood of the tent quickly turned serious and Robert's laughter died out.

"To discuss the future." Jon Arryn said and Ned felt a solemnness seep into his bones. He had killed the heir to the Iron Throne nearly five hours ago and the next in line was six month old babe.

"What is there to discuss?" he asked and Robert looked shocked.

"Who is to be the next king Ned." Robert said slowly, as if he was a child getting into a conversation he was too young for.

"Did something happen to Rhaegar's son?" he asked and Robert's jaw dropped, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully looked shocked.

"What did you just say?" Robert growled.

"Did something happen to Prince Aegon?" he asked and Robert's eyes popped out of his head.

"What do you mean? You want to put dragonspawn on the Throne?" he asked, furious.

"Who would you suggest instead?" Ned snapped and Robert looked affronted.

"Me!" Robert cried, sounding like a child who had his favourite toy taken from him.

"Then we would be putting a 'dragonspawn' on the Iron Throne wouldn't we?" Ned growled and Robert fell deathly silent.

"Go." Robert roared. "Leave you frozen fuck face and never let me see you again, lest I take your thick head!"

"At your will, Your Grace." Ned replied coldly, bowing mockingly before leaving. An hour later ten thousand Northmen on horse back marched off. Not home. South.


	6. The Blood of the Innocent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned arrives at Kings Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some may find this chapter sad or distressing. You have been warned.

_ ** Ned Stark-outside Kings Landing ** _

The capital was burning. Screams rose high from within the walls as the Lannisters raped and murdered their way to the Red Keep.

"DOUBLE-TIME!" he commanded and his army thundered after him. The gates were open and defended by a small group of Lannisters.

"LYANNA!" Ned roared and his men took up the chant. Although held by the Mad King, Kings Landing was full of innocents who had suffered under the Mad King's tyranny, something Ned had impressed upon his Lords and men until they had begrudgingly agreed with him.

The Lannisters were swept away by the sudden arrival of an organized army. The weak force at the gates was slaughtered and his army split up and rumbled through the city. 

His men thundered down streets and cleared them of Lannister scum. Men were caught entering the fray pulling their breeches up, mere seconds ago they had been raping some poor blacksmiths wife or bakers wife or fisherman's wife. They too were swept aside by the storm of hooves and steel.

But the deeper into the sprawling city they went, the more stubborn and organized Lannister resistance became. Ned growled and began to reform his men just below Visenya's Hill.

The letter still caused his veins to grow ice cold.

_Dearest Ned,_

_A friend of mine who works at Casterly Rock had warned me Tywin plans to march on the city and sack it._

_He also intends to kill Elia and her children and Lyanna if she is there because they want to marry Cersei Lannister to Robert._

_Ash_

Ned had shown the letter to the Northern Lords a day ago, spurring them on with the knowledge the She-Wolf was threatened by the Lions.

Smoke filled his nostrils with it's acrid scent. Northmen and the smallfolk of Kings Landing worked together to slow the spreading flames lighted by the rampant Lannisters. Screams filled the air, the screams of woman being raped and men being killed, and the clanging of steel on steel merged together to make a song of death and destruction.

Ned rushed past, his bodyguard following, and headed to the Red Keep. He glanced back once, seeing the Greatjon and Rickard Karstark leading a large bulk of men against the Lannister men. Then he turned and focused on the blood red walls of the keep built nearly three hundred years ago.

_ **The little dragon** _

She didn't understand. First everyone was sad because something happened to papa, then they were happy because of something to do with Uncle Jaime's father, then they were worried and sad because of Uncle Jaime's father and then they were sad and scared and surprised by the Starks.

It was all very confusing. She didn't understand the screaming. She didn't know why smoke and flames licked the walls of the Red Keep. She didn't know why there were so many people packed into the streets.

She went to find mama but something bad was happening in mama's room to. Mama was crying and a big metal man was on her. His hands were red and he was doing something to her but she didn't know what.

She saw a very red bundle on the floor by the wall, more red and some pink stuff was splattered on the wall above the bundle. She peered in and saw the silver tuffs of hair her brother had.

She ran. Away from her screaming, crying mama, away from the very red and face disappeared Egg, away from the big metal man.

She hid under her bed and clutched Balerion, her black kitten, close to her. She saw foot steps and heard mama's cries stop after a suddenly large one. She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling safe.

Then she saw and ugly, spotty, pig nosed face. It was all squished up and Rhaenys felt scared of the pig-faced mans smile. It was not like papa's or mama's or grandmama's or Uncle Jaime's or Uncle Oberyn's. It was like grandpapa's. Evil and mad.

The pig-faced man dragged her from underneath her bed, his laugh like grandpapa's cackle.

"Papa! Papa! Papa!" she screamed, flailing uselessly against the stronger pig-faced man.

"Papa's dead dragonspawn!" the pig-faced man cackled but Rhaenys heard the sounds of her locked door being pushed open and men heaving on the other side. A surge of hope filled her and she cried "Papa! Papa help!"

It felt weird when the knife slid into her chest, it was hard to breathe and painful. Her chest hurt. Then the knife slid out and there was a burst of red stuff, blood. Her blood.

_"Papa!" Rhaenys wailed._

_"What is it my little dragon?" Papa asked, his face kind and loving._

_"Owie!" she sobbed, holding up her finger, the tip of it cut and red stuff coming out._

_Papa took her finger and kissed it. _

_"Better?" he asked and she shook her head, causing him to laugh._

_"What's the red stuff papa?" she asked._

_"Blood." Papa replied._

_"What's blood?" she asked and Papa laughed again._

_"It is something inside all of us little dragon." father said before picking her up and swinging her in his arms. For a minute Rhaenys Targaryen flew like a dragon._

The knife kept going in and out and didn't stop until the pig-faced man's head fell off his shoulders and she found herself in another man's arms. The man had wide, worried, grey eyes. It wasn't papa.

"Maester! Get a maester!" the man shouted in a weird sounding voice. She liked it.

Rhaenys Targaryen saw and heard no more, her vision fading into blackness.


	7. The Aftermath of Spilt Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the sack of Kings Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will also post again later on today.

** _ Jaime Lannister-the Iron Throne _ **

"Where is Ned Stark?" he asked and the Lannister guard answered "Heading towards the Princess' quarters my Lord."

Jaime began to run out of the throne room, stepping over Aerys' corpse and cursed himself loudly for being so stupid.

"Please not Elia, not sweet Rhaenys or baby Aegon." he pleaded aloud, not caring for the strange looks he received from the Lannister soldiers who now control the Red Keep.

"Please don't let me fail Rhaegar." he thought in his head, sprinting as fast as he could in his glided, golden armour could take him.

He was too late. He saw the Stark soldiers standing above the dead Lannister ones, all looked solemn and sad. He barged past them and found himself in Princess Elia's quarters.

He vomited at the sight.

Elia laid on her bed, cleaved in half and a man's seed dribbling down her thighs. In the corner was a small bundle. The wall was painted in Aegon's blood and brain.

He vomited again.

"Rhaenys!" he shouted desperately, the Stark guards let him pass, their faces torn and sad.

He went to her bed chamber and saw Ned Stark sobbing, cradling a dead Rhaenys Targaryen in his arms.

"NOOO!" he screamed, falling to his knees and crying.

Rhaenys, who adored him and being hoisted onto his shoulders and flapping her arms like she was a dragon, who ran up to him with flowers, who he loved like she was his own, the daughter he would never have.

He scrambled over to her and gently pulled her into his arms. Her eyes were closed, shut forever. The brown eyes she inherited from her mother, that seemed to shine and glow and radiate youthful innocence and a love for everything and everyone around her. Her chest was red and it physically pained Jaime to see her drying blood.

He gently stroked her long, black hair and looked over at Ned Stark, who had a defeated, haunted look in his eyes.

"How could you do this to a little girl?" he asked, his anger being overwhelmed with despair and failure at the thought he had failed the little girl in his arms.

Something flashed in those Stark eyes and the Quiet Wolf growled "You should be asking your father." and Stark gestured to the headless body. On it's breast plate was a black manticore on white, beneath a crimson chief of three gold coins. The sigil of House Lorch. His father's bannerman.

Jaime Lannister cried until he could cry no more, unashamed as Ned Stark watched him do it.

** _ Ned Stark-the Red Keep _ **

Ned could still see as the light in the little princess' brown eyes faded, just like Rhaegar's indigo ones. He felt the urge to fall and curl up into a ball and sob at the memory at the girls blank, starry gaze.

Ned never felt a hatred like this before. He wanted to rip apart House Lannister, take all the heads of the golden, prideful beasts lurking in the west. He wanted to take Casterly Rock apart, brick by brick and use the bricks to build a mighty cairn for the little girl who had died in his arms barely an hour ago.

His bodyguard followed. More of his soldiers had entered the Red Keep, Lannister resistance in the city had died out when the grey Direwolf replaced the roaring lion on the walls of the Red Keep.

He found himself in the Throne room. The Iron Throne was an ugly thing, why anyone would want to sit on it Ned would never know. The Mad King lay dead at the feet of the throne he loved so much.

Ned saw Tywin fucking Lannister standing next to the Throne, surrounded by his dogs.

"Lord Stark." the Lord of Casterly Rock said, his head held high and his voice as strong as iron. Ned did not reply. His vision blazed with a fury, a rage he had only felt once before. When he killed Rhaegar Targaryen.

"Child-murderer!" he roared, shocked at how loud and commanding his voice was.

For a slight moment he saw Tywin Lannisters mask slip into something, before his face re-adorned the cold mask.

"What are you talking about Lord Stark?" the Lannister asked. "I've been busy securing the capital for our good king Robert."

The Lannister was going to say more but was cut off by Ned's growl.

"I held a girl, barely three namedays old, as she died in my arms." his growl was feral, like a wolf before its prey. "Her body covered in blood form the several times she was stabbed by YOUR BANNERMAN!"

He stepped forwards, slowly, drawing Ice and glaring at Tywin Lannister in the Lannister's green, cold eyes.

"Winter has come Lord Tywin." he growled, closing his eyes and tempering his rage.

"For you."

And so it began.


	8. The Wrath of the Quiet Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A battle in the throne room, a Stag arrioves at Kings Landing and revelations are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you wanted Jon/Rhaenys to be a thing but in this story it just didn't make sense.  
It is Jon/Margaery fic and will also have Alys Karstark/Jon and we all know Jon wouldn't keep Rhaenys as a mistress or have sex with her if she was married to one of his future brothers  
For those who want a Rhaenys and Jon fic I will write one eventually

_ ** Ned Stark-the throne room ** _

And so it began.

Ned charged, his Northmen following. The Lannisters were surprised and Ned relished in Tywin's shock and fear.

Ice cut through a Lannister like a scythe through wheat. He lost himself in the battle rage, allowing his body to go into an autopilot of killing. Tywin watched as the Quiet Wolf unleashed his wrath and drew his own sword.

The Northmen had the advantage of surprise and were fuelled by their liege lord's desire for justice. They wanted to kill the man who wanted their She-Wolf dead. They wanted to kill the man who had the blood of so many innocents on his hands. The Reynes, Tarbecks, smallfolk of Kings Landing had all suffered because of this arrogant fool's lust for power and position.

But the Northmen were tired. They had recently fought the at the Trident, then hastily marched south, then fought Lannister's in the streets of Kings Landing and had fought the fires that had ravaged the city. The Lannisters were fresher though tired still from the long march from the west.

The fighting led to a stalemate. A bloody, grinding fight ensued of pushing and hacking and stabbing. Men fell in large numbers on either side but the losses were more devastating for the Lions of Lannister and for the first time in his life Tywin Lannister felt fear.

Ned relished it. Drew power from it. He pushed on, violence and blood thirst over riding him. He became and angel of death for the Lannisters in the throne room and his Northmen drew their strength and pushed once more.

Ironwood shields pushed against the sturdy Lannister shields and for a moment the fighting was even as men on both sides pushed and fought with all their strength. And then the Lannister's fell, the Northmen rolled over them, death meeting every single Lannister soldier in the throne room. Until Tywin stood alone.

"I surrender." the once mighty Old Lion said, throwing down his sword.

"What makes you think I'll accept?" Ned asked, regaining his strength and breath.

"Your famed for your honour Eddard Stark." Tywin replied.

"What makes you think I should show mercy to those who have none?" he asked and Tywin met his icy glare.

Tywin leaped down, hindered by his golden Lannister armour, for his sword.

He was quicker.

Ice fell and Tywin's head with it.

_ **Robert-outside Kings Landing** _

Robert didn't know what to expect but he was here. Kings fucking Landing.

Smoke drifted lazily from within the walls and the gates were shut. Robert saw Stark banners along the walls and heads of Lannister soldiers stood next to them on spikes.

News had been infrequent and contradicting. Most of the refugees said that Tywin Lannister tried to sack the city but the Ned then arrived and beat the Lannister's bloody. Some said the Mad King was dead, as was the dragonspawn, but some spoke of the dragon's whore leaving the city just in time.

Robert had been worried. His brother in all but blood could be wounded or ,gods forbid, dead. Worse he might try putting the dragonspawn on the throne and would force Robert to fight him.

In all honesty Robert had grown a little bit of fear toward his foster brother. The man who slew Rhaegar and beat the Lions. The Demon of the Trident, the Dragon-Slayer, the Bloody Wolf.

Ned had become a legend and even some of his own Stormlords loved Ned more than him.

A rider came galloping towards him and Robert recognised him as Denys Arryn and Robert turned to face his friend.

"What do the scouts report?" he asked and felt worried at the grim and shocked look on the heir to the Vale's face.

"Tywin's head is on a spike atop the Lions Gate." Denys said and Robert roared with laughter at the irony of it.

"Any word from within the city." Robert asked, chuckling and wiping his eyes at Ned's dark humour.

"Lord Umber told us that Ned's willing to meet us at the Gate of the Gods in an hour." Denys replied and Robert.

"Best not keep him waiting the eh?" he asked rhetorically and then trotted off, his army following him.

They arrived at the Gate of the Gods earlier than expected and Robert waited with Jon Arryn, Denys Arryn, Hoster and Brynden Tully and Selwyn Tarth for Ned to speak to them and he quickly felt his impatience grow at sitting atop his horse for so long.

Finally the gates opened and Ned rode out with Lords Umber, Karstark, Reed, Bolton and Glover.

Robert felt awed by the sight of his friend. Gone was the solemn boy from the Eyrie, replaced by a grim faced King of Winter. Ice was strapped across his back and Ned was the epitome of the icy fury the Starks were known to have.

"Robert." Ned said in greeting, his voice as harsh and biting as the winds of the north.

"Ned." he replied, much warmer and louder than his foster brother.

For a moment the two stared at one another and Robert felt chilled at the coldness in the usually heavy but warm grey eyes of his friend.

"She's not here." Ned said and for a brief second Robert wondered who then realised.

"Damn that rapist dragonspawn!" he cursed loudly and Ned's grey eyes grew colder and stormier with a whirlwind of rage.

"Ned I'm sorry about your sister still being missing." Jon Arryn said consolingly, but Ned's eyes remained as cold as ice. "But can you please tell us why you attacked the Lannister's?"

Ned turned his icy fury directly towards Hoster Tully, who flinched when faced with the sight of pure rage on the Quiet Wolf. Robert wondered if the dragonspawn felt so terrified in his final moments.

"You should ask Lord Tully." Ned said, his voice a low, icy growl. "He seems very found of waylaying letters."

Robert furrowed his brow and turned to Lord Hoster who was on his left.

"What does he mean Tully?" he asked, noticing how pale the Lord Paramount had become.

"I do not know." Tully replied, gulping as he spoke.

"Oh really?" Ned asked, his voice like the howl of a wolf cornering its prey. "Then how is it that Brandon didn't receive my sisters letter?"

Tully looked as pale as the moon.

"The letter that could've prevented all of this bloodshed." Ned growled and Robert felt even more confused.

"What letter?" Robert asked and Ned looked at him.

"Do you trust me?" Ned asked and he nodded.

"With my life." he said and Ned nodded once.

"I will bend the knee to you Robert but give me free reign to deliver justice for three months as your Hand." Ned said and Robert felt compelled to nod dumbly in agreement.

Ned nodded again and then turned to face Lord Hoster.

"Lyanna sent you a letter which _you_ changed so Brandon would rush off to Kings Landing and get killed." Ned growled and Lord Tully shook his head vehemently.

"I did no such thing fool." Lord Tully said, his voice quivering with fear.

"Really?" Ned asked, his tone merciless and condescending. "Then who told Brandon Lyanna had been kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen?"

"I did!" Hoster exclaimed.

"WHY?" Ned bellowed, his voice shaking the heavens themselves.

Hoster gulped and with a defeated look stared at the ground.

"I only wanted what was best for Cat." he said weakly and Robert rounded on Lord Tully, fury spreading through his veins.

"WHAT!?" he roared and Lord Tully began to shake violently.

"Brandon had already sired a bastard off one of your Northern whores!" Tully exclaimed angrily. "I could not shame my Cat by marrying her to a whore-monger!"

Ned roared, and even a dragon would've quaked in fear at the sound of that grief stricken, furious roar.

Before Robert knew what was happening, Lord Tully was on the floor, his face being pummelled by Ned. Jon Arryn and the Blackfish managed to quickly pull him off, leaving Tully looking like a ripened tomato.

"In the name of Robert Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord Protector of the Realm I Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King, sentence you Lord Hoster of House Tully to die." Ned said and he quickly unsheathed Ice and in one fell swing, beheaded the Lord of Riverrun.

Ned then nodded to Lord Reed, who blew a small horn. The sound pierced through the air like war drums and soon the Northmen were riding out of the capital.

"Where are you going?" Robert asked, staring the headless corpse of Hoster Tully.

"To break the siege of Storms End." Ned said, cleaning Ice and sheathing it in it's mighty scabbard. "And to find my sister."

Then he mounted his horse and galloped off with his army.


	9. The Tower of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned arrives at the Tower of Joy

** _ Ned Stark-Dorne _ **

Dorne was unbearably hot and not for the first time Ned found himself wondering how Ash could've lived here for so long.

His throat was parched and their water was warmer than the polls in the Godswood.

Ned had brought his closest friends with him. On his left was Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch, Lord William Dustin, Lord of the Barrowlands, Ethan Glover, youngest sibling of Lord Galbart Glover, Theo Wull, brother of Lord Hugo 'the Big Bucket'. On his right was Martyn Cassel, Master of King's Course and Mark Ryswell, Master-at-arms of the Rills. All were men Ned could trust with his life and he fully intended to bring all of his friends home with his sister.

Ned gulped and turned to his left to see Howland Reed offering him a water skin.

"Thanks." Ned said, taking the water skin and swigging down the warm water.

"Care to share Ned?" asked Martyn to his left.

"Of course." Ned replied with a grin, before throwing the water skin over Martyn's head and into Mark Ryswell's awaiting arms.

"Oh fuck off!" Martyn exclaimed as Mark gulped down the remaining water from the skin and Ned laughed at Martyn's outraged expression.

"What?" Ned asked innocently and Martyn rounded on him with eyes as wide as a plate and jaw dropped.

"What!" he growled and then they all burst out laughing.

Ned allowed the brief moment of levity take over him for a moment, allowing him to forget his dark thoughts that he would arrive at Rhaegar's 'Tower of Joy' to find his sister dead. Ever since Storm's End and the anonymous letter told him Lyanna was in Dorne he had worried he would never see his sister alive again.

_"Gods." Ned murmered as the Tyrell host came into view. If that army had been at the Trident, then the Rebellion would've been crushed. _

_The Tyrell army moved. A large host of pike men formed a line, blocking them from Storm's End._

_Ned turned to Howland Reed on his left. _

_"Find Lords Umber, Karstark and Bolton and bring them to me." he commanded and Reed turned and galloped down the line. Ned waited, watching as a large contingent of riders trotted towards them, stopping halfway between them and the their line of pike men._

_"Lord Stark." Lord Karstark greeted and Ned nodded to him, seconds later Lord Umber rode up, his war horse looking extremely uncomfortable to have a giant on it's back and a few seconds of that Lord Bolton came._

_"Lord Stark." Lord Bolton said, his voice sinister and quiet, like a whisper of death._

_"Lord Bolton." Ned replied and the Greatjon asked "What's the plan Ned?"_

_"We're going to talk." he replied and the Greatjon raised a bushy eyebrow,._

_"And if that fails." he asked and Ned looked at Lord Bolton._

_"Then we'll show them the truth of House Bolton's words." he said and the corners of Lord Bolton's lips quirked upwards. He had always been the least trustworthy of Ned's bannermen but both had grown a mutual respect for one another over the past months, despite Lord Bolton's dislike of his honour and Lord's Bolton's...reputation._

_The Greatjon grinned and then Ned nodded to Mark Ryswell before galloping across the field with Lords Umber, Karstark, Bolton, Reed and about fifty guards carrying the banners of the grey Direwolf, chained giant, sunburst star, black lizard and flayed man._

_Ned saw the golden rose of Highgarden, the red huntsman of Horn Hill, Hightower of Oldtown, the red apple of Cider Hall and the three green leaves of the Oceanroad. They were accompanied by a near five hundred men._

_Ned rolled his shoulders, loosening them should he need to fight his way out and felt the relaxing weight of Ice on his back._

_"Lord Stark!" a red faced, oversized man with a funny looking moustache greeted warmly._

_"Lord Tyrell." he replied in greeting, his tone as cold as the northern winds, and just as biting._

_The pompous Lord Paramount seemed put off and stumbled over his next words._

_"So you are the man who killed the Old Lion." a wizened voice said from amongst the Tyrell party and Ned noticed an aging woman who could be none other than the Queen of Thorns herself. _

_"Aye." he replied. "And you must be the Queen of Thorns."_

_The woman nodded once, her blue eyes appraising him. _

_"Your not what I expected." she said, watching him closely._

_"Neither is your son." he replied and the woman smiled slightly whilst Lord Tyrell turned redder than a tomato._

_"How dare..." he began angrily._

_"Quiet." Ned snapped, his voice pure ice and the Lord of the Reach stammered before falling silent._

_ _"The adults are talking." he said and turned to Lady Olenna. He may be from the North but he had a wife of the south and the south was full of tales of the person who truly was in charge of House Tyrell._ _

_ _Ned saw Lord Leyton 'the Old', Lord of Oldtown looking outraged, clearly annoyed a heathen was speaking to his lord in such a way, whilst the other lords Lord Tyrell brought with him merely looked interested at the conversation._ _

_ _"Now." Ned said, his voice authoritative and commanding. "If you bend the knee and swear fealty to King Robert, First of his Name ,King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord Protector of the Realm then you will all be given amnesty and forgiven for siding with the Mad King, you will end the siege of Storm's End and allow food into the castle." _ _

_ _"And if we don't?" Lord Tarly asked, speaking for the first time._ _

_ _"Then you'll become the living embodiment of House Bolton's banner." Ned replied, his face a cold mask and his tone offering no mercy._ _

_ _Olenna Tyrell raised a brow. _ _

_ _"And you." she said sceptically. "The honourable Eddard Stark, would allow that."_ _

_ _"War changes people Lady Olenna." he replied darkly._ _

_ _They bent the knee._ _

After he had entered Storm's End, giving out Tyrell food and shocked at the state of its defenders, when a malnourished child gave him a letter, took and apple and ran away.

And now here he was, traipsing through the deserts of Dorne in search of a Tower that may not even exist.

Then he saw it.

Atop a small bluff in the distance sat a small, red tower. Three white cloaks at the base of it. He galloped towards it, the Dornish Sand Steeds he had bought at Sunspear faster than the wind itself. He was close and could see who was at Rhaegar's tower.

There he could see Gerold Hightower, the White Bull himself, Lord Commander of Aerys' Kingsguard. To the White Bull's left stood Oswell Whent and to Hightower's right stood Ned's good brother. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.

He and his companions rode to the base of the bluff before dismounting and marching up to face them. A line of seven face a line of three.

"I looked for you on the Trident." Ned said and Hightower responded.

"We weren't there."

"No shit!" Martyn exclaimed in mock surprise and the Kingsguard and Ned glared at him. Ned sighed and turned to Arthur.

"Where's my sister?" he asked.

"I don't speak to oath breaker's." Dayne replied, a murderous glint in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Ned asked.

"You dishonoured my sister and then married another." Dayne growled, his hand clenched tightly onto Dawn.

"Arthur." Ned said, softly. "I married Ashara at the God's Eye."

"Liar!" Dayne growled and Ned shook his head, and gestured to his companions.

"These are my witnesses Arthur." he said and Dayne looked even more furious.

"You lie!" he roared. "Ashara would've made sure I was there!".

Ned drew a letter from his pocket and handed it carefully to Dayne, who read it and looked shocked.

"I have a nephew?" he asked, shocked and Ned nodded.

"He's called Jon, after the King of Winter." Ned said and Arthur seemed torn.

"Aerys is dead." Ned said softly. "Rhaegar is dead. Come North with me and teach your nephew how to fight like a Dayne."

Arthur looked at his brothers and the White Bull nodded sadly. Arthur unclasped his white cloak and stepped aside.

"She's inside." he said and Ned nodded and moved forward but both Whent and Hightower drew their blades.

"Arthur has a reason to leave." Hightower said.

"We want vengeance." Whent growled, glaring at him.

"FOR RHEAGAR!" the two last brothers of the Mad King's Kingsguard cried.

"FOR LYANNA!" Ned and his men cried, charging to meet one another.

Ned fought fluidly with Ice, the past months of war honing his skill with the massive blade. The White Bull was good and managed to slay Theo before Ned brought him down.

Whent was a much harder challenge and managed to wound Howland and kill Martyn before William killed him with a sword through the back. Ethan and William began tending to Howland and Mark Ryswell went to calm the horses, who were panicking at the smell of spilt blood. Arthur Dayne stood, crying and kneeling next to his fallen brothers.

"You made the right choice." Ned said, gently touching the Sword of the Morning's shoulder before rushing up the stairs of the Red Tower. There he saw Lyanna, clutching a dead babe to her breast, crying weakly. The room smelt of flowers and blood. Ned left hours later, carrying a dead sister and niece in his arms, a heart broken in his chest.


	10. The Return of the Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned arrives at Winterfell with his sister and niece's bones and meets his son for the first time.

** _ Ashara Stark-Winterfell _ **

Ned was nearly here. For the first time in a year she would see her beloved husband. But the same question that had been haunting her since she heard he had killed Rhaegar nagged at the back of her mind. Would he be the same Ned?

She heard a lot about him recently. The Dragon-Slayer, the Demon of the Trident, the Bloody Wolf, Cregan Stark reborn, the Wrath of the North. All of those illustrious nicknames seemed so different to her Ned, that she couldn't help but fear she had lost her sweet Quiet Wolf forever.

Already Ned's name was respect and slightly feared at Winterfell. Before the war he was just the quiet spare that was raised in the Vale. Now he was the one who had cut a bloody path through the south, killing a prince, two lord paramount's and laying waste to countless poor souls who got in his way of his quest for his sister. Tales of the 'Wrath of the Quiet Wolf' was already spreading at a rapid pace throughout the North.

The tale of Ned slaying a rapist prince in a great, bloody battle, of Ned holding a innocent little princess as she died in his arms, the tale of Ned slaughtering a Lannister army and laying low the mighty Old Lion, of Ned taking the head of the treacherous Lord Tully and of Ned forced the roses of Highgarden to kneel.

As Ashara stood at the courtyard of Winterfell, a babbling little boy in her arms, surrounded by her new subjects and awaiting the return of her loving husband she felt a trickle of fear sliver its way down her spine.

"Open the gate!" a guardsman cried and Ashara straightened her spine and willed herself to be still, as she was almost shaking with excitement.

The mighty Ironwood gates heaved open Ashara found herself near tears at the sight of her husband.

He looked nearly the same. His grey eyes were more stormy and had a haunted look to them. His face had a few new scars, but they were small and barely noticeable. Ice was strapped across his back and he looked like a King of Winter. But he was still her Ned. She could tell. 

She kneeled with the servants as Ned rode into Winterfell with five thousand men at his back.

"Winterfell is yours Lord Stark." Benjen said to her left. The young Stark had developed a close relationship with her over the past year. She had helped him relieve some of his duties as acting Lord of Winterfell and he had helped her through her pregnancy.

"Get up Ben!" Ned said commandingly, pulling his brother into a tight hug. She rose with the other servants and she watched fondly at the Starks reunion, turning when she heard the crunching of boots and saw Arthur approaching her.

"Art!" she exclaimed, pulling her brother into a one armed hug, holding Jon in the other.

"Ash." Arthur murmured back and she savoured the embrace for a few moments before letting go and turning to face her husband.

"Ash…" Ned began before she strode over to him.

"Shut up." she growled before pulling him close to her and kissing him passionately, not giving a flying fuck for the embarrassed glances she was being given by Art, Ben and everyone else there. It had been too long since she had had her husband with her.

They kissed for a minute before they broke apart to gasp for air.

"Hello Ash." Ned panted and she laughed.

"Hello Ned." she said back and saw his gaze flicker down to Jon in her arm.

"Is that..." he asked and she cut him off again by offering him Jon.

"Yes." she said, smiling happily. "Meet your son Jon."

Ned reverently took the babe into his arms, holding him as if he were the most delicate and precious thing in all of Westeros. His grey eyes were wider than dinner plates and sheer love and warmth in them make her fuzzy.

"Hello Jon." Ned said dumbly, smiling like an idiot.

The baby giggled and babbled and reached out and grabbed Ned's beard, exclaiming happily as he yanked on it. The half pained, half loving expression on Ned's face made her smile.

Winterfell felt warmer with her family here.

** _ Ned Stark-the Crypts of Winterfell _ **

The statue didn't do her justice. She was more wild and beautiful than that cold, unmoving, grey stone. Father's statue did him no justice either, he was more than just the cold, ambitious Lord of Winterfell. Brandon's statue didn't seem right either, he was more free and alive than the dead, cold stone.

Ned had made sure the sculpture had chiselled a babe into Lyanna's arms. Lyarra had been buried with her mother.

Not for the first time Ned cursed Rhaegar, then Aerys, then Robert and then all of the south. And then him.

Why had it all gone so wrong? Why did he get his happy ending, when father, Brandon, Lyanna and Lyanna's daughter were nothing more than corpses rotting in stone tombs?

He hated himself for feeling happy. He should be grieving. He had been grieving ever since he left that fucking tower in Dorne.

But he could not help the happiness he felt when he saw Ashara after so long and tasted her on his lips. He could not help feeling happy to see Benjen one more. He could not help feeling happy to see his son for the first time.

Jon was a Stark for definite. His tufts of hair were a raven black, but lighter than Ashara's hair. His eyes were almost entirely black but he screamed of Stark and Ned found himself glad. He wanted more Stark happy, young Stark faces running around Winterfell.

"They won't forget you." he promised his sister, brother, father and niece before turning around and leaving the crypts, ready to face the world. 


	11. 14 years later...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourteen years have gone by.

** _ Jon Stark-Karhold _ **

Karhold was a small, mean castle built on two small mountains and separated from one another, with the only way to cross to either side of the castle being a long, rickety bridge. On the eastern side was a short, squat keep, where there was the great hall, training yards, kitchens, cellars, dungeons and living quarters. The east side was where House Karstark and their servants and (if there were any) guests stayed. On the west side was two tall towers and a gate house, the only way to enter Karhold. Here was where the stables, guardhouses and forgery was.

Jon Stark had been fostering at Karhold for a year now and his time there was nearly over.

_"Is father busy Jory?" Jon asked and his father's captain of the household guard smiled at him and ruffled his hair._

_"Aye little wolf, want to see him?" the kind guard asked and Jon smiled and nodded at him._

_Jory knocked on his father's solar and Jon heard his father rumble "Enter!" on the other side. Jon thanked Jory as the guard opened the heavy wooden door for him and Jon entered his father's solar._

_"Hello little wolf." his father said, smiling warmly at him as he entered. "How's your day been?"_

_"Good father." Jon replied. "I trained with Uncle Arthur then did my sums with maester Luwin and then I learnt about Aemon the Dragonknight and then..."_

_"Slow down little wolf!" his father exclaimed teasingly. "You'll forget how to breathe if you speak any faster!" _

_"Sorry father." Jon said and took a deep breath._

_"And then I sparred and played with Robb, Lya and Arya."_

_His father smiled kindly and looked distant for a moment._

_"In the Godswood?" he asked, but to Jon felt like a statement but he nodded in answer regardless._

_"Is there anything you came here for in particular Jon?" his father asked after a heavy sigh. _

_"Yes father." Jon replied. "I have an idea."_

_HIs father quirked a brow and nodded, a sign for Jon to continue. Jon had a sharp mind, like his mother, and had already helped Winterfell and the North twice already with two of his past ideas. The first was to when he showed Ned the Ibbenese Cow, known throughout the North as buffalo, and how they were well adapted to surviving the harsh climate of the North so Ned had sent Ser Wendel Manderly to go see if the cattle were suitable for the Northern climate and if so bring back a herd of them. A year later there were at least two thousand cattle which were thriving in the North. The second idea had been to send a small group of surveyor's in a cave Jon had found near Winterfell. The surveyors had found a massive gold deposit in those caves, some argued it was large enough to rival Castamere._

_So Ned listened, wondering if his eldest sons next idea would make the North even richer and more powerful. _

_"I foster at a house in the north for a year." Jon said. "I need to see the lands I will rule eventually and if I can become friends with the heirs of the houses then I don't have to worry about rebellion."_

_Ned was shocked. His eight year old son was thinking way too far ahead than any eight year old Ned had ever known. _

_"Jon are you sure you want to do this?" his father asked and Jon nodded. Jon knew what he needed to do to save his family._

Jon involuntarily shivered as a lick of fear trickled up his spine. He had not had a dream since he left Winterfell, since he left what lurked beneath Winterfell's crypts. The wind seem to howl harsher and it's bite became deeper as he thought of _her_.

**_"Free me."_** a voice ,once warm and loving, now cold and harsh, commanded.

"Never." he whispered back into the howling wind.

**_"We shall see."_** the voice said once more and Jon shivered as it cackled, before the wind faded away, and the cackling went with it.

"Jon?" a voice, as sweet as summer and as warm as roaring hearth, asked and Jon turned to see the greatest beauty in the North. Alys Karstark.

Her hair was as a vibrant red, and it was braided and decorated by tiny snowflakes, that seemed to form a crown on her head. Her eyes were a dark hazel and he was swallowed whole by their aura. Her skin was as pale as the snow falling from the sky and Jon found himself admiring her soft curves, barely visible amongst her wool and furs.

"Yes Alys?" he replied, face flushing when she smirked mischievously at him, catching him in the act of admiring her.

"Father wants to speak to you." she said before turning and walk away, putting a little sashay into the swaying of her hips. Jon gulped and willed himself to be strong.

Ever since he had arrived at Karhold her had been drawn to the woman known as Alys Karstark. She was strong and fierce and clever, hiding all of her strengths beneath a demure façade, so she was always underestimated.

The Karstark's were the sixth house Jon had fostered in over the years. He had at first stayed at Bear Island, learning how to survive and thrive in the wilds of the North with the Mormont She-Bear's had been some of the fondest memories for Jon. He had his first kiss there with Dacey Mormont and had grown close with all the Mormont woman.

Next he had stayed with the Glovers, developing a close friendship with Bowen Glover, the son of Lord Galbart and his wife Serena Glover. Bowen and Jon had travelled great lengths through the Wolfswood together, and had even ended up walking all the way to Ironrath, the seat of House Forrester, one time. There he had befriended Asher Forrester and the second son of Gregor 'the Good' had joined them in their travels ever since.

Jon had then stayed with the Umber's, bringing Bowen and Asher with him, at the age of eleven. He had fought Wildings and deserters alongside the Great and Smalljon, seeing first-hand why the Umber sigil was a chained giant. The Smalljon had joined his motley crew when Jon had then travelled to the Dreadfort.

Jon least fondest memories were of his time spent there. Lord Bolton was as lifeless as a corpse, whenever he looked at you with his pale, cold eyes it was like he was planning ahead for when he would flay you alive. But Jon had made a surprisingly strong friendship with Domeric, the Leech Lord's much more human son and the harp loving Bolton had joined Jon when he departed for White Harbour.

The Lord Manderly was the complete opposite of Lord Bolton. He was jovial and fat whereas the Leech Lord was cold and thinner than a knife. White Harbour to was the complete opposite of the Dreadfort. It was bustling and alive. The Dreadfort was quiet, often eerily so and stank of pain and death. White Harbour smelt of flowers and fish. Jon had learnt a lot at White Harbour and had spent a lot of time 'counting coppers' as Asher liked to fondly say. Jon had left White Harbour with no new traveling companion, but had become close friends with Lord Manderly's granddaughters Wynafryd and Wylla, whom were like little sisters to Jon.

And then Jon had found himself at Karhold, the last place he would be fostering at. In a moon's time it would be over. He would be leaving for Winterfell and his friend's were all being summoned back to their respective homes. They had had a good run and Jon had accomplished his task. The future great lords of the north were bonded to him by blood, as they had sworn a blood oath to one another.

_With our spilt blood we become brothers._

_We swear to always fight for one another, and to never raise a blade against one another._

_With spilt blood we swear._

Jon felt solemnness wash over him at the memory at the oath he had sworn and he knew he, nor none of those who swore it, would break the oath. Not now. Not ever.

Jon rubbed his eyes wearily and felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be fine Jon." his uncle said softly. Arthur Dayne himself. The Sword of the Morning.

Jon's uncle had been with him since the day he left Winterfell and the man had become a second father to Jon, helping him through thick and thin.

"I know uncle." Jon said wearily.

"Everything will be fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karhold  
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ed/31/1d/ed311d0cac47372134fd1a7c468c6ab3.jpg


	12. The last moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's stay at Karhold nears it's end

_ **** _

_ **Jon Stark-Karhold** _

  
"You wanted to see me Lord Karstark?" Jon asked as he entered the Lord of Karhold's solar.

"Yes Jon." Rickard Karstark replied, gesturing to a chair opposite him. "Take a seat."

  
Jon did so and watched the Lord Karstark closely. The man was gaunt, just past his fifth and one birthday. He had a long grey beard, that was tangled and knotted. His hair was thinning, but was still long and fell to his shoulders. His brown eyes were almost black and had a tried, ambitious glint to them. His head was held high and back as straight as a sword, though Jon could easily see the tiredness of age seeping into his bones.

  
Lord Rickard Karstark was a wroth, proud, ruthless man who, despite his shortcomings, cared deeply for his family and would lay his own life low for any with Karstark blood in their veins. The Lord of Karstark was many things but ,at least in that moment in time, was no an enemy of House Stark so Jon obeyed the Lord, and sat just as straight with a head held just as high, lest the Lord of Karhold believed he could bend the heir to Winterfell with his word.

  
An approving glint came to the older lords eye and Jon allowed himself to feel more at ease and relaxed.

  
"As you well know your time here at Karhold is coming to an end." Lord Karstark said.

"I was wondering if you could answer some questions I have for you." Karstark asked, though his voice told Jon it was not a request.

"Of course Lord Karstark." Jon replied, hoping his voice sounded as authoritative to Lord Karstark as it did to him. "Though I would ask that you be quick, as you say I don't have long here and would like to make the most of my remaining stay here."

Lord Karstark nodded, his eyes assessing and analytical, as if he was trying to peel off Jon's skin and see what he was made of.

"You have visited much of the North these past few years and befriended many of the future lords of the North." Lord Karstark paused for a moment. "And you have also seen many possible future Lady's of Winterfell."

Of course. Karstark wanted Alys to marry him.

"Indeed I have." Jon replied, keeping his face in a unreadable mask. "Lord Manderly's grandchildren were very lovely and both posses a keen mind which could make the North much more richer and the Mormont woman are incredibly strong willed and could hold Winterfell should I have to go to war."

Lord Karstark frowned and his face flushed slightly.

"I was wondering if my daughter would be a suitable Lady of Winterfell." Lord Karstark said and Jon nodded thoughtfully.

"You see the problem with the Manderly's is that they like to play games, like they do in the south." Jon said. "The Mormont's are too fierce and act rashly sometimes."

Jon paused and looked at Lord Karstark, who looked a little bit excited.

"Alys is the balance." Jon said. "And I love her."

"Good." Lord Karstark said, sounding relieved of a great pressure. "Because she loves you too."

Jon felt his face flush but he knew it was true. He had spent a lot of time during his stay at Karhold with Alys and found himself falling in love with the brave, honourable only daughter of Lord Karstark.

"I will send a raven to Winterfell, asking my father if I can marry Lady Alys." Jon said. "But only after you give your blessing and she agrees to it."

Lord Karstark grinned. "You have my blessing now go find her lad!"

Jon turned and left, hastily rushing around Karhold until a servant told him she was in the Godswood.

He found her, kneeling beneath a Weirwood tree in silent prayer. The Godswood at Karhold was small but elegant and had a grace to it that Jon thought could rival that of Winterfell's Godswood.

He kneeled next to her, careful not to disturb her, and waited her to finish praying to the Old Gods. After a while she turned to face him and smiled.

"What is it Jon?" she asked and he gulped nervously.

"w..wo...wou." he stammered nervously.

"Yes?" she asked and he gulped again.

"Would you like to marry me?" he blurted out and glanced away, fearing rejection.

Then a soft, warm hand slid onto his cheek and his head was pulled to face her.

"Yes." she replied, her face flushed red and her dark, hazel eyes were practically glowing. Then she was leaning towards him, her eyes closed and lips open. Then they were kissing. Her tongue was small and soft and he easily won the brief battle of dominance between them. She tasted sweet and she smelled of winter roses. The kiss engulfed them and they stayed their for nearly an hour, kissing and hugging and crying with joy.

**_"FREE ME!" _**a voice cried in the distance.


	13. The beggining of a journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon reflects on his siblings and a long journey begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making up the names of roads in the North forgive me

_ **Jon Stark-not far from Karhold** _

They would be going up the Kar's Road north to Last Hearth, where Smalljon Umber would be the first to leave Jon's 'Wolfpack'. Then they would travel westwards to the Kingsroad and then go south, following the Kingsroad to Winterfell. Bowen Glover and Asher Forrester would then go back to the Deepwood Motte and Ironrath respectively and Domeric Bolton would be going east to the Dreadfort.

At least Jon would have Alys and he would be able to see his younger siblings after so many years apart. Robb Stark was born a year after Jon was. He had their amethyst Dayne eyes and raven black hair. He had inherited Stark cheekbones and but everything else was pure Dayne. Robb had been Jon's partner in crime since he could walk and Jon had missed his little brother at his side. Robb was confident, cheerful and even at a young age, confident and charming towards other little girls in Winterfell. Jon remembered some of the catfights between Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel over his little brother's attention and found himself smiling at the memory of how smug Robb looked. Jon dreaded to think about what would happen should Robb meet the hedonistic Oberyn Martell. Well only if Robb was still the lady charmer he was when he was younger.

Jon's eldest sister, Lyanna, was one of Jon's more calmer siblings. The 'wolfsblood' ran in her, but rarely showed itself. Lyanna was the complete opposite of her namesake and she had been born three years after Jon. She was pure Dayne and had been a sweet, gentle girl, her head filled with tales of knights and maidens. Jon had some fond memories of her, despite Lyanna spending a lot of time either embroidering, playing with Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel or engaging Arya in prank wars. He remembered playing a game of knights and ladies with her in the Godswood, where he was the brave knight rescuing her from a evil lords castle, with Robb always preferring to be the evil lord and tickling Lyanna as a form of torture until Jon rescued her. He remembered Lyanna being really upset one time after a little spat with Beth Cassel, and in his efforts to cheer her up, he went on all fours and pretended to be her fair steed all and carried her all across the Godswood on his back. He hoped she was still innocent and kind, but had grown up a bit and was less naïve than what she was.

Though Jon would never admit it, Arya was his favourite sibling. Ever since she was put in his arms when she was a babe and he felt a connection to her. Her eyes were Stark grey and he hair Stark brown. She was fierce and willful, being a near constant headache for their parents and her teachers, as she often ran away from her lessons to play with him. She had a connection with him too, as her first word been "Jon!" and she had followed him around since she could walk. He remembered sparring with her in the Godswood, teaching her how to fight with a blade, how to use a bow, how to hunt and skin an animal. He fondly remembered playing dragons with her, where they would flap their arms and run wildly around Winterfell. They would be Balerion the Black Dread, or Vhagar or Meraxes or Meleys or Caraxes or Vermithor. Sometimes Jon would be Syrax and Arya would be Rhaenyra Targaryen or he would be Vhagar and she would be one of favourite warrior queens Visenya and he would carry her all around Winterfell, flapping his arms whilst her tiny fists clutched his hair and steered him wherever she wanted to go.

Jon sighed happily at the memories of his siblings. He didn't know much about Bran, other than that he had been born a moon or so before Jon left for the Deepwood Motte and he had Dayne eyes and Dayne hair. He wondered what his youngest sibling was like, his letters with his other siblings and his parents told him Bran was kind, easy going and dreamed of becoming a member of the Kingsguard one day. He also received numerous rants in his letters from his mother about Bran's love of climbing and about how he would 'drive her to an early grave with worry'. He also received numerous paragraphs of praise of Bran's skill at climbing the broken towers around Winterfell and how it reminded father of his time spent at the Eyrie, were father, Robert Baratheon and Denys Arryn would climb up the up the Giant's Lance. Jon hoped he could befriend his younger brother.

But now was not the time for worrying about the future. He grinned at Asher as he raced past the cursing Forrester and Bowen Glover spurred on his horse faster and the Smalljon cursed far behind them and Domeric raced ever so slightly ahead. Now was the time to enjoy the last few moons with his friends. 


	14. Last Hearth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon arrives at Last Hearth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also gonna name parts of castles I don't know the name of

_ **Jon Stark-near Last Hearth** _

Jon smiled at the Smalljon's childlike excitement and rolled his stiff shoulders whilst chuckling.

"Sometimes I think he's a overgrown baby!" Asher remarked next to him and Bowen laughed and nodded in agreement. On Jon's right Domeric Bolton chuckled softly and shook his head.

"I think he's just a baby giant." Domeric said softly and Jon laughed with Asher and Bowen.

"Aye you've got the right of it Dom." Jon said, still chuckling.

"Will you twats shut up and hurry up!" the Smalljon shouted from ahead of them, prompting another bout of laughter amongst the four friends he had left behind in his haste.

"Better not let that oaf beat us or we'll never hear the end of it." Asher said, digging his heels into his horse and racing off.

"I HEARD THAT!" Smalljon roared and Jon, Domeric and Bowen all laughed whilst spurring their horses on to catch up to Asher and Smalljon.

Ahead loomed Last Hearth. It was made of a dark stone that gave the small keep a menacing appearance and the chained giants banner of House Umber that fluttered in the light breeze did not help make a welcoming appearance to the keep. Jon had been frightened when he first say the castle loom atop Umber's Hill when he had seen it for the first time three years ago. But the jovial nature of it's Lord and people had quickly made Jon fell welcome and he some fond memories pranking both the Greatjon and Smalljon with Asher and Bowen there.

He barely realised he was at the gates until he heard the great Ironwood gate rumbling open and the Greatjon ,with his uncles flanking him, came striding out of Last Hearth. The Smalljon was a strong, tall and heavy man and yet his father practically pulled him off his horse like he was a feather and proceeded to hold him in a bear hug. Jon couldn't help but smile at the sight as Smalljon's uncles joined in. In the corner of his eye Jon saw Domeric smile sadly and knew it was because he would receive no such greeting from his own father. Jon the pulled Dom into a hug and the heir to the Dreadfort playfully resisted until Jon released him. He was proud to see his friend now had a much happier smile on his face which quickly disappeared when Asher pulled him into a headlock and began to ruffle his hair.

Jon turned his attention back to the Umber reunion, as the Smalljon's uncles had backed away to allow father and son to share a brief moment.

"My son." the Greatjon said, his voice choking with emotion and pride as he held Smalljon's head in his hands, looking intently at his sons face.

"Father." Smalljon replied, his voice choking with emotion and Jon found himself smiling. The Smalljon rarely showed more emotion than anger, joy, sadness or disgruntlement. Right then he was showing a lot more than that.

The Greatjon reluctantly let go of his son just as Asher let go of Domeric and turned to face him.

"I'll never forgive you for taking my son away from me for three years." the Greatjon growled. Anyone who had never stayed with the Lord of Last Hearth for a year would have thought he was serious but Jon had lived with the Greatjon and knew he was only a little bit serious.

"You wound me." Jon replied playfully, dramatically placing a hand on his heart. "I returned him in one piece did I not?"

The Greatjon let out a world shaking laugh and clapped Jon on the back, nearly causing him to fall off his horse.

"Fine I'll forgive ya you little bugger." the Greatjon bellowed as he surprisingly pulled Jon into a hug too. Jon felt his bones crack and protest violently at the Greatjon's hug.

"I've missed you too ya little twat, Last Hearth's been dull ever since you left." the Greatjon chuckled. "No-one's had the balls or brains to prank me better than you did lad."

Jon chuckled, at what the Greatjon meant. He had managed to convince the Greatjon that a ghost of one of his ancestor's roamed the wing Jon, Bowen and Asher was staying at and he had poured flour on Asher, who was sat on Bowen's shoulders. When the Greatjon went to see for himself whether one of his ancestor's were haunting his home he found Asher and believed it was in fact a ghost. Asher then convinced the Greatjon the only way for him to rest once more was for the Lord of Last Hearth to wait outside of Last Hearth the whole night in naught but his smallclothes. He loved the memory of Asher, looking shit scared, running away from an incredibly pissed Greatjon.

Like he knew what Jon and the Greatjon had been speaking about Asher spoke up.

"Where's my hug?" he asked in mock hurt.

"Up your arse ya fucking cunt Forrester!" the Greatjon bellowed and Jon laughed with the others before following the Greatjon into Last Hearth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Hearth  
https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/gameofthrones/images/8/8a/801_Last_Hearth.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/350?cb=20190415220141


	15. A quick conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon converses with a being that has haunted him when he was a child

_ **Jon Stark-Last Hearth** _

  
Mors 'Crowfood' Umber led Jon, Bowen and Asher back to their old quarters, this time with the addition of Domeric. The Karstark's were placed in the corridor next to them and a feast was held in honour of the Smalljon returning home. The feast was not till later on that night, so Jon showed Domeric around Last Hearth whilst Asher and Bowen went off to hunt though knowing Asher he'd probably spend most of it thinking of a way to prank the Greatjon.

"That's the training yards." Jon said, pointing over to where Mors Crowfood was thrashing around a couple of Umber guardsmen. The master-at-arms of Last Hearth was a formidable fighter despite his age of seventy. Domeric looked interested in the fight but Jon knew the future head of House Bolton preferred books and his harp over the sword.

"Come on." Jon said, clapping his friend on the back. "I'll take you to see Maester Triston."

  
Last Hearth was not a place of relaxation and pleasure. It was a strong, fortified keep that was the first line of defence should Wildlings ever cross the Wall and had been built with this horrible thought in mind. This meant that the library was small, practically a cupboard when compared to Karhold's and had just three shelves of books that were layered in dust, as they had not been used in a long time. Jon was glad they would be spending a just one moon here, as Dom would likely go mad with boredom if they stayed longer, as he would've read the all the books from the library within a matter of weeks.

So when Jon led Domeric to the library, he couldn't help but laugh at the disappointed look on his friend's face.

"No wonder Asher loved living here." he said glumly and Jon laughed even harder, prompting a small smile on his friends face.

"Don't be so glum Dom we're only here for a moon and besides I'm sure Maester Triston will be happy to have debates with you about stuff." Jon said, turning and leaving Dom, knowing his friend would like some alone time.

Jon wandered around Last Hearth, trying to notice anything had changed in the three years that had gone by and quickly realised Last Hearth was pretty much the same as it used to be, the only difference being that a few if the servants had changed.

He found himself sneaking out of Last Hearth to somewhere only he knew about. The discussion that awaited him would be tiring and draining but it needed to be done. He followed a small trail which led to a ravine. He descended into it and into an icy cave that was within it's steep sides.

There he waited, knowing that it was an attempt to annoy him so he might make a mistake, he had to be careful with what he said, the wrong words could lead to catastrophe.

  
**_"Have you finally come to your senses?"_** it asked. An icy gust of wind blew from deeper within the dark caves and began swirling in a little snow storm before finally taking shape.

  
Jon could not deny it had an ethereal beauty. It's skin sparkling and smooth, glowing with an ancient , magical light. It's eyes were as blue as the sky and it's face was a perfect sculpture of elegance and grace.

  
"I did the moment I stopped listening to you." he replied and the beautiful face contorted into a frown that somehow, was still beautiful.

  
_**"Why do you make this so hard?"**_ it asked, it's voice as sweet as a lemon cake.

  
Jon shook his head, shaking away the ringing sound of it's soothing, calming, addictive voice.

  
"Because you a no better than him." he said harshly and a violent gust of wind blew him backwards as it's face contorted into one of fury and rage.

  
_**"I am NOTHING like him!"**_ it bellowed and Jon shook his head.

  
"I am not here to have the same old argument." he said, standing up and brushing snow off his cloak and back of his breeches.

  
**_"I know why you are here."_** it growled, fury shimmering off it.

  
"Then there it nothing I need to say is there?" he asked and it growled again before disappearing in an icy blast of wind.

  
Jon sighed and hastily made his way back to Last Hearth. The conversation with the elusive, magical being that had haunted his childhood had drained all of his energy and he couldn't wait to sleep. However he knew he would have to go to the feast and maybe dance with Alys which (if he was honest) he really didn't mind. So Jon shook himself off and walked back to Last Hearth, relieved he did not have to speak with it at Winterfell, where it was much, much stronger.


	16. On the Kingsroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief stay at Last Hearth ends and on the road to Winterfell Jon and Alys find a cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at miles and stuff so basically in this fic it goes like this:  
1 league=20 miles
> 
> Also Northern horse are both fast and have good endurance so long there in the cold climates, they have better endurance and less speed south of the Neck.

** _ Jon Stark-Last Hearth _ **

Despite the warmth of the food, the sweet bitterness of the ale and the comfort of being in the company of friends, Last Hearth's great hall was quiet and sombre. The only sounds were of spoons scraping bowls, ale being chugged down and a few quiet murmurings of quiet conversation.

Jon sat at the high table, in the right sat the Greatjon and to his left sat Domeric. Next to Domeric sat Bowen, the Smalljon and then Asher, who was quietly taking the piss with Bowen and Smalljon. Domeric joined in here and there, but he was mostly quiet and focused on eating his food. The Greatjon was unusually quiet and only talked idly with Lord Karstark (whom was seated on the Greatjon's right) every once in a while. Lord Karstark had spent most of the stay at Last Hearth trying to wrangle a betrothal agreement between Lord Umber's eldest daughter Branda and Karstark's heir Harrion, though so far nothing had come of these negotiations.

Jon was not so sure about whether the betrothal was a good thing. Branda Umber was honest and had inherited Umber strength (though not their height), which made it more likely for her to survive childbirth. However she was also selfish and a glutton and was one of the most cynical people Jon had met. Harrion was brave and just, proving himself again and again when he ruled in his father's stead when Lord Karstark had taken ill some moons ago. But he had also inherited his father's wroth, though his was more quick to awaken, and he had also shown signs of being paranoid of one of his younger brothers wanting to usurp him. Jon believed the match would be an unhappy one and the Greatjon knew this and had been trying to politely turn down Lord Karstark for some time. 

Further down the right of the high table sat Lord Karstark's children in order of age. Harrion was sat next to his father and next to him sat Eddard Karstark, whom Jon liked the least of all the Karstark siblings. Eddard was wroth, slothful and proud, his pride was extremely annoying and borderline arrogance sometimes, his short temper fiery and quick. Eddard had inherited the worse of his father and had no redeemable qualities though his shyness was endearing at times. Next to Eddard sat Torrhen Karstark, Jon's favourite son of Rickard. Torrhen was charitable, spending a lot of time with the poorest smallfolk at Karhold, he was also brave, personally leading a group of twenty horseman to attack and kill a group of slavers that had landed near to Karhold. Torrhen was also patient and honest and Jon felt that Torrhen would've made a good lord of Karhold. Then last but sure as hell not the least sat Alys. Alys was brave, standing up against her eldest brother when Harrion had blamed Torrhen for something he hadn't done. She was honourable and just, and had inherited her fathers pride like two of her older brothers, however she used it in a more tolerable way than her eldest siblings.

Jon wanted nothing more than for Alys to be sat next to him right now, however today was the last day the Wolfpack would be together for a very long time and Jon intended to make the most of it. He scooped his spoon full of porridge and turned to the Smalljon. He carefully took aim and with a flick the porridge landed on top of the Smalljon's head with a wet splatting sound. Jon burst out laughing as the Smalljon's eyes practically popped out of his head. Smalljon turned to face him, furious but that just made Jon laugh more, because when a giant tried to scare you with porridge on its head it made for a rather comical sight. 

Then another wet splat could be heard the Smalljon flinched and span around to see a grinning Asher with an empty spoon.

"YOU MOTHER-" the Smalljon bellowed, only to be cut off by a wet splat, this time the porridge being flicked by a rather sheepish looking Domeric. 

And then it descended into chaos. Porridge flew with a fury. One second they were targeting the Smalljon, then Asher, then Jon, the Bowen and then the Smalljon again until all of them were covered in porridge.

The Greatjon was bellowing with laughter at the sight and was roaring even more when he remembered that fact that the porridge covered fools were the future of the North.

"Alright that's eno-" the Greatjon said, before being cut off as porridge splatted onto his forehead.

"Forrester!" the Greatjon growled before throwing his bowl of porridge at Asher, the porridge covering Asher's head and the force of the wooden bowl knocking him off his seat, causing them to roar with laughter. 

Lord Karstark watched with a bemused expression as did the rest of the great hall. Jon smiled at Alys who winked at him and he blushed, causing her to laugh loudly. The Greatjon then ushered Jon, the Smalljon, Domeric, Bowen and a dazed Asher out of the great hall to get changed into less porridge covered clothing.

* * *

** _She had only felt the pain of defeat once and she was determined to not swallow that bitter pill ever again. Yet the constant setbacks was grating on her nerves and the most recent and most painful setback stung the most._ **

** _She had lost him, for now at least. She would make certain that she would get him back. Even if the whore had to die in the process._ **

* * *

The time has come. Jon sat atop a his Northern courser, Winter, his sword resting at his hip. His fur cloak rested on his shoulders and his bags were packed and strapped to Winter's flank. 

He waited patiently next to Alys. She had been understanding when he told he'd like to spend the moon at Last Hearth with the Wolfpack, and he had promised she would have his attention then on. And so she would.

They were waiting for Asher, who had forgotten where he had put his packed clothes, had then spent half an hour running around like a headless chicken before realising he hadn't packed in the first place and was now packing his seemingly endless amount of clothes. Jon loved Asher like a brother but by the Gods he could but a bloody idiot at times. Most of the time actually.

Domeric was double checking that his harp was safe and undamaged every five minutes, despite the fact they hadn't actually moved yet. Bowen was attempting to sing the Bear and the Maiden, forgetting that he couldn't sing for shit. The Smalljon looked like he wanted to headbutt a wall and the Greatjon looked like he wanted to headbutt Asher. Jon wasn't going to get started at how irritated Lord Karstark and his sons (bar Torrhen who looked calm albeit a bit bored) where.

Alys was quiet, holding his hand. Jon hadn't even noticed they were holding hands. He hadn't noticed his thumb was gently brushing up and down it. She smiled such a warm smile that Jon felt like he would combust in the middle of Last Hearth their and then.

Finally Asher came running out of the living quarters, shoving an ugly green shirt into his pack. And then he fell and all of his clothes spilled out everywhere. The courtyard collectively groaned and many angrily cried "Asher!" or "Forrester!".

"How hard did you throw that bowl?" he asked the Greatjon in exasperation, receiving a grin and a booming laugh.

"Maybe a bit to hard." the Greatjon admitted with only a tiny hint of regret.

Jon rolled his eyes and waited for another five minutes as Asher hastily bundled all of his clothes into the pack and strapped it onto his horse.

"What took you so long?" Jon asked as Asher hauled himself onto his mount.

"Heard Bowen singing and I thought I'd wait for him to finish." Asher replied and Jon laughed as Bowen's face turned as red as a tomato and began an age old argument where someone in the Wolfpack called him out for his really bad singing and then he defended it like a religious zealot.

"Lord Umber." Lord Karstark said after two minutes of humoursly watching Asher and Bowen bicker. "We thank you for your hospitality."

"Any time Rickard." the Greatjon replied and Lord Karstark smiled slightly at the breach in etiquette.

"We'd best get going." Jon said and the two lords turned to face him. "Otherwise we'll end up travelling barely a league today, and we have at least 40 leagues to Winterfell." 

"Aye." Lord Karstark said and the Greatjon strode over to Jon and almost broke his back in a bear hug. 

"Look after yourself lad." the Greatjon said, his voice unusually quiet, he sounded like a regular man talking rather than yelling and shouting like the Greatjon normally did. "And come back sometime, there'll always be ale to drink for you here."

Jon nodded and smiled back at the Greatjon.

"I'll hold you to that Greatjon." he replied and the Lord of Last Hearth smiled back and walked away to cuff Asher around the head.

And then the Smalljon pulled Jon into a hug that definitely broke at least one bone.

"I'll see you again one day Stark." the Smalljon said, smiling sadly. 

"You better count on it Umber." Jon replied and the two embraced once more before the Smalljon moved on to Domeric.

The goodbyes were quick, lest they all start crying like little boys. The were short but sweet and they vowed to meet again one day to the Smalljon. Jon was looking forward to that day already.

Then they were riding out of Last Hearth and slowly the fortress receded into the distance until it was nothing but a speck in the snow filled horizon.

* * *

_ **He was returning. After six long years he would return to Winterfell and they would be reunited, truly reunited, once more. ** _

_ **Already her plans were falling into place. He would be hers once more. It was just a matter of patientence. ** _

* * *

Jon grinned at Alys as she led him away from the camp. They had ridden hard and fast, travelling nearly a whole league before they made camp at a valley. He had finished putting up his tent and dumping his things when Alys had arrived and dragged him away to a 'surprise'.

"Seriously Alys what's up here?" he asked and she smirked at him.

"You'll see." she replied and continued to lead him up the hill. 

Eventually they came across a cave and Alys grinned as she lead him in. It was not like her usually smiles, which were flirtish and warm. No this one dripped of seduction and Jon couldn't help but wilt under the smile.

The cave was warm and not that deep. There was a warm pool and Jon couldn't help but take off his cloak at the cave's warmth. 

"Undressing already Stark?" Alys asked teasingly and Jon turned to see her in naught but her smallclothes. 

He gulped as she closed the distance between them, her hazel eyes dark and shining with lust. Then her she took off the scant little clothing she had left and Jon could not help the rush of blood that came to his lions, he could do nothing but stare.

Stare at her firm, ample breasts, her pink nipples erect and pointed. Stare at he pink nether lips, which glistened with wetness. Stare at the small patched of ginger hair above her crotch.

Then they were kissing and their tongues battling for dominance over the other. She bit his cheek and he tasted the metallic taste of his one blood. He bit and sucked on her neck, his hardness rubbing against her belly. He then kissed lower, nibbling her pink, erect nipples and fondling her firm teats. He licked her belly button.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Your still dressed."

He did not reply, only licked and kissed his way lower.

She giggled and said "You know nothing Jon Star-" only to cut herself off with her own gasp when his tongue scraped across her nether lips and then pushed into her and she gasped and moaned and cried his name. She weeped and shuddered and came on his tongue.

She was gasping for breath and her knees were shuddering. She had never felt anything like _that_ before. Before Alys knew what was happening, Jon was undressed, his length free and hard and proud. Precum weeped from the tip, veins were strong and pulsing, it was long and thick and Alys gently touched it with her hand. She stroked him, causing him to moan and gasp and the precum smothered his length and lubricated it.

"Are you ready for more?" she asked in his ear and he nodded desperately.

"Are you ready to fuck me with your hard, thick cock?" she asked and he groaned desperately. "Are you ready to fuck away my innocence and make me yours?"

He gave out a strangled cry and nodded desperately, his eyes closed and his face once of pure ecstasy.

"What was that?" she asked and he groaned loudly.

"Yes!" he cried and she stop stroking him, his cock twitching violently and ready to spill.

He grabbed her hips and kissed hers harshly before gently laying her onto the floor and settling himself above her. The cave floor was smooth and wet and surprisingly comfortable. She felt his cock head pressed against her open pussy and she cried out as he began to slowly and gently push into her. She felt a sticky substance trickle down her thighs and realised it was her blood. Then he began to thrust, the were quick and desperate and she could feel him moving inside her. His tip brushed at the back of her womb and every time it did she cried out with pleasure, the pain she had originally felt quickly fading.

All too soon it was over, he roared her name and his seed flooded inside her, painting her walls white and she new that his seed had taken root and planted a babe within her. His length softened inside her and he rolled off of her, pulling her close to him. She wiped away the mixture of blood and seed from her thighs and curled into him and soon they were both dozing softly in one another's arms.

Neither of them noticed the cloud of ice that flew away from them towards Winterfell.


End file.
